<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>An Unlikely Liaison by vigilant</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659156">An Unlikely Liaison</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilant/pseuds/vigilant'>vigilant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Degeneracy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(he will still cry if you bully him normally), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Choking, Dwight likes to be bullied (sexually), F/M, Face-Sitting, First Time, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Spanking, Submission, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Woman on Top, Yes Dwight 100 Percent Consents, absolutely degenerate, joining the baby dweet destruction squad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:13:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilant/pseuds/vigilant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Morrison was getting bored, hunting the same people in the same places for so long.</p><p>Maybe it's time to try something new.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dwight Fairfield/Frank Morrison, Dwight Fairfield/Julie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Degeneracy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>yeah i'm a dwight main<br/>no i don't have shame</p><p>the only thing i apologize for is my garbo title but i wasn't gonna name it 'the ol' rumpy-pumpy'</p><p>this was originally planned to be a 3 chapter fic - with one chapter revolving around julie, and then the final with frank again - but i wanted to go ahead and post this one. i may not write the other chapters but at the same time i might, so hey, let's see how this one goes<br/>tags will be adjusted accordingly if i write the other chapters<br/>but also please let me know if you enjoyed this - i know it's a Bit Degenerate but hey i enjoyed writing it so, yeah,</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the first time since he and his crew had ended up in this weird, fucked-up realm, Frank Morrison felt <em> bored.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sure, going from trial to trial, throwing up little pathetic shits on hooks (or getting to carve them up and hear them <em> scream </em> ) was fun enough, but he’d lost track of time at this point. It was cyclical, repetitive, even when he was watching one of the others in their efforts. It didn’t give him the same spark, the little thrill of, <em> fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this, </em> and <em> fuck, I </em> <b> <em>love</em> </b> <em> doing this </em> right behind it - not when it was the same faces, over and over, often making the same mistakes or taking him through the same turns and leaps. Sometimes they escaped, which was still as frustrating as it always was - but there was never really a feeling of <em> satisfaction </em> when he was through with a trial anymore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, okay, new survivors would pop up sometimes - but they were only fun for the first dozen trials, when Frank was able to spend time figuring out what made them tick, or what bullshit abilities they had to turn on him with. It was dreary, almost, and sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder how the survivors felt about all this - in the barest of curiosities, granted, considering many of them had been here longer than he had.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wondered if they ever wanted something a little...different.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he was on the hunt, he never really paid attention to what survivors looked like - he was attuned to getting the screams that fueled him out, the praise from the Entity seeping under his skin, so he never cared to check whether or not the bitch he’d just carved up was much of a looker.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But sometimes, he couldn’t help but admire a view.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank twirled his knife as he leaned against the railing of the upper level of the Coldwind farmhouse, his eyes half-lidded and peering down at the trio of survivors perched on a generator, working intently. <em> Don’t they get bored of that shit? </em> Something they were conditioned to do, he guessed. <em> Well, they do get carved to hell if I catch them. Bet that still hurts like a bitch. </em> He felt a little smug to think about that, cocking his head a bit as he studied the survivors a little closer.</p>
<p>Their fourth was already dead; he’d ensured that the burly, English motherfucker was the first to go. He hated the way the guy could just <em> endure </em> , often ending up the last of the herd to be sacrificed, so when he’d spotted him first in the trial, he’d made quick work of him. <em> And good riddance, too. Fucker. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out of the three left, there were only a couple that caught his eye past a fleeting glance - the track-runner was annoying as shit, so any trace of attractiveness she may have had was right out the window. But the others...well.</p>
<p>He eyed over the songbird, admiring the way her bandanna-like top exposed most of her shoulders - she was, by far, the most visually appealing of the women, in his opinion. She almost reminded him of Julie, in her aggression, but her anger was hot, fiery, like his own, and so it irked him every time she struggled to fight back - and fuck, did she put up a good fight - when he was carrying her to a hook.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But the other one...was interesting.</p>
<p>The little scaredy-cat leader of theirs. How any of the survivors looked at this fucking dweeb and thought, “<em>Huh, you know, I trust that guy to lead me,” </em> was an absolute mystery to Frank - but what he <em> did </em> understand was that this little fucker made something in his bones <em> stir. </em>Not in a way that made him desire to kill him, but...something new. Something he wasn’t sure how to feel about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, Julie was the one he was devoted to - he’d killed for her, and it was his devotion to her that got them landed here - but as time passed, they’d always idly talked over ideas. Pitches. Just something <em> new</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Yeah, </em> he thought to himself, glowering down at the trio. <em> Maybe it’s time I do a little experimenting. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank sucked in a breath, feeling his limbs growing light, like he were running on air itself - and he gripped his knife tightly before he leaped off the upper level, rushing for the generator and smirking to himself as he saw the leader spot him first and call out, “<em>S</em><em>catter! </em>” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He went right past the nerd, who seemed confused (but certainly didn’t take the given opportunity lightly, running off quickly) and made quick work of stabbing the athlete, who screamed in response and rushed off in a burst of speed - but he’d already lost focus on her. He spun on his heel, dashing after the other woman, who whirled around and threw a palette down. <br/>“Too fast,” he hissed under his breath smugly, barely pulling back in time to dodge the attempted stun and gliding over it smoothly to slice into her, too. Her scream sparked something new in him - a rush, but an <em> impatient </em> one. Why couldn’t they just hurry up and die?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He managed to slice the songbird another time - a bit futile, since his hits didn’t pack the punch they did when he wasn’t in his frenzy - before he let out an agitated cry of pain, clutching his head for a few moments. </p>
<p>Frank panted to catch his breath before his head snapped up at the sound of a rushed vault, whipping in the direction of the noise just in time to spot the leader crouching to help patch up the athlete a few yards off, who was cursing and whimpering in pain. <br/><br/>It took him a few moments to cross the distance, by which time the man spotted him and urged the athlete to run - and the little fucker <em> faced </em> him, barring his way to the fleeing woman despite looking like he was about to piss himself. <em> Got some guts after all, </em> he thought with a snort, tutting and shoving him out of the way roughly so he fell back to the ground. <em> Too bad I’m not into seeing them today.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He chased the girl for a short stretch of time before he finally got her, burying his knife in the base of her back as she shrieked in pain - and he swiped at her again, stabbing her in the arm in the usual motion -- before he stopped himself, stepping back and cocking his head down at her. <em> Maybe I should just let the Entity have all of the others, </em> he mused. After all...it’d be missing a meal today. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Decided, Frank grinned and grabbed her up onto his shoulder, listening to her snarl at him as she struggled, but it was useless; this bitch was going to die today, and <em> fast</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He made quick work of hooking her and rushed off, before he circled back, hidden out of her view, crouched behind a large stack of hay bales. It didn’t take long before the hick bitch came around, looking carefully about herself before she ran over to the hooked girl, grabbing her and starting to ease her off - but Frank was ready. He ran from his hiding spot and snatched her right off of the hooked survivor, letting out a rough laugh as if he couldn’t believe how easy this was. <em> Maybe I should clean up like this more often, </em> he thought smugly, as he snarked, “Not today, bitch.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As expected, the woman struggled violently in his grip, her efforts especially strong since she’d gotten patched up before making her daring rescue - but no matter. Frank practically strolled to the next hook, holding her tightly as he whistled tauntingly, her shrieks of rage making him all the more satisfied with his hunt.</p>
<p><br/>“You piece of shit! I’ll wring your neck for playing dirty, you hear me!?” Her threats couldn’t possibly have scared him less, of course, because while she was seething them out, he was throwing her up on a hook, grinning behind his mask. Her shouting devolved into a scream of pain, before she cried even louder, “Dwight! Dwight, find the hatch! Get out! Don’t come for us - he’s waiting over here!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Irked, Frank lashed out at the hooked woman, slicing across her leg with a hiss of, “Shut the fuck up!” He whirled around, eyes roaming slowly for any flash of white - that stupid shirt of his stood out on any map...well, aside from Ormond, maybe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dwight. <em> Dwight. Yeah, that matches that stupid little face of his. </em> His heart thudded with anticipation, skin crawling with the thrill as he stalked around the map, occasionally casting glances back at his hooked survivors - but it didn’t take long for the athlete to give up her struggling and get lifted into the sky by the Entity, so he was sure he didn’t have much to worry about. He couldn’t have been dumb enough to come back for the bitch who’d warned him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank stalked around the map, agitation biting at him as he searched for his prey - and although he failed to find the little shit, he <em> did </em> find the hatch, still shut firmly since the other woman was still struggling on her hook with the Entity’s claw. <em> Easy. </em> His eyes darted around briefly, looking for a good spot to crouch and wait -- but he didn’t even have to, because he locked eyes - well, mask and eyes - with a startled survivor, standing about six yards away from him with the hatch between them. <br/><br/>The woman screamed and was pierced by the claw, lifted into the sky, and then the hatch flung open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dwight’s stare was still locked onto Frank’s, frozen, before it flickered down onto the open hatch, his breathing unsteady with nervousness. Frank grinned slowly under his mask, cocking his head a bit before he gestured at him, tipping his head up. “Go on.” His voice was even. “All yours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dwight seemed unconvinced, making a small, abortive motion for the hatch - and when he saw that Frank hadn’t budged an inch, he made a cautious step forward, then another, and then he broke out into a full sprint for the hatch, practically diving for it. Smart little fucker, that was for sure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But not fast enough.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank’s grin nearly split his face as he rushed forward, Dwight’s feet gracing the bare edge of the hatch as he grabbed him by the back of the neck, tutting once again in a taunting fashion. “Ooh, <em> bummer</em>. Really thought I’d let you out for a second, didn’t you?” he declared smugly, hoisting the leader over his shoulder as he squirmed and struggled. Dwight faltered in his grip as he was carried away, as if he were wondering why Frank hadn’t shut the hatch - but his struggles were renewed as he realized where they were heading, grunting and pounding at Frank’s back in a desperate manner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Hey! </em> Stop fucking struggling, or I’ll carve you up right now,” he snarled, though his words held no weight; he couldn’t do that if he hadn’t at least given the Entity a taste of the survivor first, and it was too late for that now. But, much to his surprise, the survivor <em> obeyed </em>, hesitantly going limp in Frank’s grip as he let out a hopeless little noise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It didn’t take long for Frank to reach the farmhouse again - but he didn’t take him down to the basement. Instead, he let go of Dwight, forcing him to his knees and swiftly putting the knife to his throat in a threatening manner so he wouldn’t run.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So,” he hummed, feeding off of the look of confused fear on the survivor’s face, “name’s Dwight, then? You look like a Dwight.” His eyes lowered to the other man’s lips, and Frank licked his own, feeling a stirring in himself as he thought over what to do here. <em> No telling if the Entity’s gonna fuckin’ shred me after this if I do it, so...I may as well enjoy it. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dwight nodded a little, thinly, tense, as if he weren’t sure what Frank would do if he made the wrong move. He twitched and his eyes flickered down as the killer’s fingers gripped his chin, thumbing over his lips slowly, and then his brown gaze shot back up to Frank’s mask as if he suddenly understood, his brow furrowed a little.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Here goes. How badly are you gonna make me cut you up to be good?  </em>Frank thought, eyes narrowing. He was expecting to be bitten, maybe, or shoved. For the little dweeb to start crying, or begging to be let go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What he <em> wasn’t </em> expecting...was for Dwight to let out a little shaky breath and lean into the touch like he had been <em> hoping </em> for it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank was frozen for a moment, as if he didn’t know what the fuck to do. He’d gone into this completely ready to hold him at knife-point, but - he was - <em> What the fuck? He wants this?  </em>Was it because he was pent-up because survivors couldn’t do anything like this outside of trials? Was he just <em> into </em> this out of nowhere? His brain was short-circuiting in confusion, as if struggling to place where and why a survivor would actively <em> want </em> to do anything like this with a killer that had killed them numerous times before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the time that he was still, Dwight took the thumb into his mouth, cautiously looking up at Frank with a hint of nervousness in his eyes - but they were <em> relieved</em>, hopeful, even, as Frank felt a tongue caress the pad of his thumb - and a rush of heat curled low in his belly, his head tipping up a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s surprising,” he hummed, taking his thumb from Dwight’s mouth and gripping his chin with more force, making his head tip up. “You’re gonna be a good little bitch, right? Not gonna make me regret this?” he growled, and the survivor nodded, making him feel <em> powerful</em>. Yeah, there it was. This was good. He <em>f</em><em>elt </em> good <em> . </em> “Yeah?” he muttered softly, gripping Dwight’s head firmly and pushing him between his legs as if to affirm his position here. “Then get to work, <em> bitch</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dwight’s hands were trembling as he worked to get Frank’s pants open, and the killer was unsure if it were from anticipation or fear - perhaps a bit of both. It didn’t take him long, though, to get where he needed, his tongue touching down on Frank’s cock long before his hands did, curling right up under the tip and dipping down into the slit in a slow, practiced manner - and it made Frank shudder, his hand sliding into Dwight’s hair and gripping him there firmly, gazing down at him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go on. You want it so bad, <em> act </em> like it,” he ordered, and Dwight didn’t hesitate, opening his mouth and enveloping him in soft, wet heat, making Frank suck in a slow breath as his fingers curled in his hair. <em> Fuck</em>, he needed this. It felt so fucking good to bark an order and have it obeyed without question, with <em> eagerness </em> in tow, and his eyes were half-lidded as he studied the survivor below him, working more of his cock into his mouth and pulling his cheeks in as he sucked, his eyes closed almost sheepishly. “Look at me,” Frank husked, tugging his hair roughly, and those brown eyes shot open again, gazing up at him with arousal and <em> excitement </em> glimmering in them, his brows knitted softly together as he worked. His nostrils flared briefly, as if bracing himself, before he pressed deeper than Frank had <em> ever </em> been taken, his cock squeezing down Dwight’s throat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Frank gritted out, his other hand dropping the knife as he clung to Dwight’s head, holding him there roughly and giving him a rough, vicious thrust into his face, forcing himself as deep as he could go, the sound of the knife clattering to the ground miles away from him at this point. He edged out a starved groan as Dwight choked, and it was so fucking <em> hot</em>, so <em> good</em>, to know that, not only because of the noise he’d made between his legs, but because his throat had gotten <em> so </em> fucking tight in protest, practically milking every vein in his cock as it rejected him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, you don’t get to back off,” Frank snarled as he felt the survivor struggling to pull away - and he made sure of that, holding his head in an iron grip as he started to fuck his face, ignoring the choked noises Dwight was making in the meantime. He felt <em> superior </em> as he realized the other man wasn’t even actively trying to fight him off; at most, he was involuntarily struggling the more time passed, but he was clinging to Frank’s thighs like a lifeline, still doing his best to suck his cock as his face was abused, pounded against in vicious, shallow slaps, and fucking Christ, <em> he was hard</em>. He <em> liked </em> this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank couldn’t help the staggered laugh of disbelief he let out, letting go of Dwight for the barest moment as he grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to look up at him as he coughed and gasped for breath, his face fucking <em> ruined</em>, but that light of desperate arousal still glimmering in those eyes, like he was <em> starved </em> for this.</p>
<p>“You <em> like </em> this, don’t you? Look how fucking hard you are,” Frank taunted, panting as he cocked his head, savoring the way Dwight’s face flushed and he stayed silent, just swallowed tightly. “Yeah,” he husked quietly, sucking up every last drop of shame Dwight was letting out - because the little fucker was <em> thriving </em> off of this. “Back to work, you fucking dick-pig. I’m not <em> finished</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shoved Dwight back into his lap, and the survivor, however humiliated as he was, still went right back to work - well, until Frank took right back over, slamming right back down his throat with a snarl of pleasure. “That’s right - you’d better be <em> sucking</em>, bitch,” he hissed, but it wasn’t even necessary for him to say, because he already felt every greedy move Dwight made on his cock, from swallowing around him to meeting his thrusts with every ounce of movement he could manage. Frank knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, but he craved every last ounce of submission that Dwight was so freely giving him, and so he was ruthless through it all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He yanked the other man back before slamming back down his throat and holding his head tightly in place, rutting against his mouth for a few more long moments before he jerked and his nails dug into Dwight’s scalp, a raw cry bursting from him as he buried himself all the way, blowing his load down the survivor’s throat with an orgasm that made him lose his senses for a moment. Frank couldn’t form any words as he groaned with gritted teeth, his hips jerking a few more times against Dwight’s face as he distantly felt him swallowing, before <em> actually </em> starting to struggle, as if he’d been restricted from air too long. Frank forced him in place for a few moments longer as he recovered, his eyes shut tightly, before he let him go. Breathlessly, he looked down at the survivor as he gasped for breath, leaning back against the wall weakly while he trembled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Idly, Frank fixed his pants, feeling thoroughly satisfied - and <em> intrigued </em> - as he eyed Dwight, licking his lips and taking a few shaky steps back over to him. “Didn’t even tell you to swallow,” he remarked, his voice low and taunting, and Dwight’s face flushed as he looked away in embarrassment. Fuck, he loved how easily he could make him <em> squirm</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank’s eyes dropped between Dwight’s legs, and he walked over slowly, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt to hoist him up against the wall. “You been fantasizing about that, or did you just see the opportunity and gobble it right up?” he asked, his voice overflowing with smugness as his leg slid between Dwight’s, rubbing his thigh up against the trapped bulge. He’d never done anything with another guy before, but the fact that this one was just so <em> easy </em> to fuck with emboldened him. Anything he did that was remotely taunting, <em> humiliating</em>, seemed to make him melt - and he was right, because Dwight let out a little pathetic noise in his throat, his voice failing him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I-I…”<br/><br/>“Hmm? Can’t hear you,” he growled, leaning in as his other hand slid up Dwight’s shirt, thumbing over one of his nipples before pinching firmly. He felt the survivor jerk against him with a little gasp, the barest hint of a moan in his throat - like he was holding it back. “Hey - don’t fucking hide from me.” He abused his nipple again, twisting a little as he ground his thigh against Dwight’s trapped cock again, and this time, he was met with a desperate moan, which made him grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’d do this for anyone that even considered it, wouldn’t you? You don’t care that it was me. You were <em> waiting </em> for it.” Dwight’s breathing hitched, and trembled a little, and Frank grinned as he realized he was <em> right</em>. “You’re a greedy little slut, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I deliver the message to my people.” He pressed harder between Dwight’s legs, feeling how desperately he was throbbing. “I know that’s what you <em> want</em>. So, what do you say?” Dwight was too busy mewling to respond, and Frank’s eyes narrowed. “I’m <em> waiting</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Th-th-” Dwight’s voice was shaking, distracted, and Frank pressed harder, twisting his nipple again as he cocked his head. “Thank you,” he managed, his voice carrying an edge of a whine in it as his head pressed back against the wall, his breathing faster now, as if in anticipation. He was close.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, no, it was nothing.” Frank almost felt <em> giddy </em>from the power trip, tipping his head up as he rocked his thigh one, two, three more times before Dwight shuddered and gripped Frank’s jacket, an incoherent noise leaving his throat as his orgasm took over, shaking and practically melting against the wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once he was done, Frank let him go, watching him sag to the floor while he recovered - and, exhausted, he chanced a glance up at the killer, as if uncertain what to do. Frank gazed at him for a few moments before he jerked his head toward the doorway, grabbing his knife off of the floor and sliding it into his pocket. “Go on. I <em> guess </em> you’ve earned it,” he remarked, watching him squirm. “Don’t make me fucking wait. <em> Go</em>.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the survivor scrambled to his feet and staggered out of the doorway and toward the hatch, Frank stared at the wall, processing just what he’d done. What the fuck had just happened, rather. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And as he felt the trial crumbling around him, letting him know that the survivor had escaped through the hatch, he felt himself grin, like that old spark was back again.</p>
<p><br/><em>I can’t fucking </em><b><em>wait</em></b> <em>to tell Jules.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dwight's starting to think nothing's going to happen with the Legion anymore, until he's least expecting it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it's been 4 hours of writing and this beast is finally done</p><p>5 comments in like, a day and a half is the most i've ever gotten and i am an absolute slut for praise so like;; i had to write more<br/>thank y'all so much for the comments, i know i didn't directly reply to any, but it really made me grin to see them and i admittedly keep glancing back at them every 5 seconds because i've never gotten so many before</p><p>but! yeah, actually this is it. i thought it over and decided this is a good spot to end off, but i do have another work that i'll be working on asap since someone gave me a suggestion last chapter and i thought of a pretty good idea with it lmao<br/>you can also give me ship requests in the comments to write about - i most often write NSFW, but i can try my hand at cute drabbles too. i'll be making a separate series for that if i get some requests. but do keep in mind i will probably only write ones i see and have an idea for / drive to write. nothing against your ship or you! i just have very picky muse when writing. that said, i'm most comfortable writing m/m NSFW</p><p>and also yeah on that note i s t r u g g l e d writing this, especially toward the end because i was losing steam, but i really hope this came out good enough to enjoy. thank you for the support!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dwight? You sure you’re okay, sweetie?”</p><p> </p><p>Kate’s concerned voice snagged the young man’s attention, blinking as he looked over at her with a weak smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just...thinking,” he answered, although she didn’t look too satisfied with his response.</p><p> </p><p>Ever since that first trial, he’d been distracted, particularly when a member of the Legion was hunting them. It had been roughly twenty trials since then, and though they’d only had the Legion three times out of those, it had been a stark enough difference in Dwight’s performance that people were starting to notice.</p><p> </p><p>Not that they hadn’t the moment he’d come back, of course. He had been off when he returned to the campfire, and people had wanted to know why he’d been gone so much longer than the rest - and he hadn’t budged in explaining, past that the killer had just been toying with him, cutting him up and watching him sweat for his own amusement before finally Dwight had gotten away long enough to slip into the hatch. It was a solid enough story, and it lined up.</p><p> </p><p>He just wasn’t sure that everyone was <em> certain </em> that was what happened.</p><p> </p><p><em> Nobody thinks...the truth, </em> he told himself, and he knew that; survivors had their sympathetic looks they gave him, and he was certain that they were in the right territory - but not the right context. He felt guilty for just letting them think whatever conclusions they’d found on their own were true, but it was a much better option than ever letting them know what <em> really </em> happened.</p><p> </p><p>God, what had happened. Every time his mind flitted back to that trial, his face flushed and he felt all sorts of <em> distracted</em>, like ants were crawling under his skin. He couldn’t exactly deny that he’d been hopeful, the first time they’d seen the Legion again.</p><p> </p><p>It had been the girl with pink pigtails, and she hadn’t approached him the entire trial. In fact, the one time he’d seen her after the first glance was at the exit gates, when she’d just death-hooked Meg and Jake had already run out before Dwight, since he’d been in sight and a safe distance from the killer.</p><p> </p><p>She’d just waved at him, her fingers fluttering in a cutesy farewell, like she was saying goodbye to a friend.</p><p> </p><p>And then, the next two times, it was the other boy, who wore what was essentially a bandanna over his face instead of a mask, and he’d been a lot more awkward. Bumping into Dwight, cursing under his breath, muttering, “God, just <em> go</em>,” like he’d just spent the entire trial trying to get away from him. And he had, if not at the cost of getting no sacrifices at all - but the second time, he’d gotten everyone <em> but </em> Dwight, and Dwight had found hatch before he spotted him again; whether or not that was intentional, he wasn’t sure.</p><p>But it was certainly enough to convince him that <em> something </em> had happened. What had that first member said, Dwight couldn’t help but wonder. Had he ended up...claiming him..? The thought made him feel a little hot, whether from being embarrassed or pleased he wasn’t sure. <em> But</em>, he felt a little cheated, too. <em> Hadn’t he said he’d tell others...so it’d happen more? </em> </p><p> </p><p>Immediately, he had felt shame, thinking that, but he’d nibbled his lower lip as he mulled it over. Maybe he <em> had </em> , but those two just hadn’t been interested. It wasn’t exactly a common...thought process...especially in a situation like this. He was still shocked that the first member, or...leader, he supposed, since he’d said “my people”, had even done it. That had made a lot more sense; even if what he <em> wanted </em> wasn’t happening, he was still getting spared every trial with the Legion, and that still felt great. He’d <em> hated </em> the way they carved him open if they were feeling particularly bloodthirsty in a trial, so to think that might have been out the door was pleasing in itself.</p><p> </p><p>“Dwight…” Kate’s voice dragged him back out of his head, and he flushed, embarrassed he’d fallen back into his thoughts a second time.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m really sorry,” he sighed, and he meant it; he was nothing if <em> distracted </em> lately for a number of different reasons, and he did feel guilty for making the survivors worry. At the end of the day, he was their leader, of sorts, and he needed to be level-headed. Not everyone relied on him being sane to feel sane, but for people like, say, Claudette, they absolutely depended on it. “I promise, I’m really fine. I’ve just been thinking a lot about...I don’t know.” He shrugged lamely, giving her a defeated smile. “I guess I’ve just been feeling kind of...drained. I’ve been getting a lot of trials lately. Not a lot of time to recover.” <em> Mentally</em>, he didn’t finish, but Kate seemed to get it just fine.</p><p> </p><p>“I figured,” she said softly, and she placed a hand on his knee reassuringly. “Look, if you ever need a break...you know Jake or David or I’ll take over for you. I can’t imagine how you’re farin’. You’ve been leadin’ us a long time now.” Her eyes glimmered with sympathy, and he appreciated her concern - but it was certainly doing its job making him feel like shit for lying.</p><p> </p><p><em> I can’t believe I’m worried about a fix, </em> he thought miserably, mentally slapping himself. <em> They need me. </em> But to stay sane, Dwight needed <em> this</em>; he had nothing to work off the stress, the constant control being given to him, the people looking to him for direction - it was exhausting. Hell, he <em> was </em> drained. He’d been working on fumes for ages now. The only time he’d gotten even a drip of fuel was when he’d been thrown on the ground in the Coldwind farm house, and the reins had been torn from his hand.</p><p> </p><p>And it was <em> killing </em>him to have to wait to feel that powerless again.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. I really appreciate it, but I’m fine. I just have to get myself up and running again,” he answered, flashing her a smile that was more solid than before. “You guys shouldn’t worry about me.”</p><p> </p><p>Before he could finish his reassuring speech, though, Kate shifted, brow furrowing with a sigh - and he understood before he even glanced down to see himself fading. Oh, boy.</p><p> </p><p>“They just won’t give you a break, will they?” She sounded frustrated, but resigned, offering him an encouraging smile. “Here’s to you makin’ it back okay.”</p><p> </p><p>He could only smile back at her before he was gone, and the next time he blinked, he was at the Temple of Purgation, standing outside of the massive ruin with Nea standing only a few feet away from him, nodding in greeting at him. Dwight nodded back, his eyes roaming for a split second before they spotted a familiar flickering of lights connected to a pole that fed into a generator. He motioned for Nea to come with him, and she crept along, moving just a bit faster than him as they crouch-walked toward it; this damn landscape was so open that they were going to have to keep their heads down as much as possible, or else the killer would spot them from miles away. </p><p> </p><p>“Wonder who it is,” she murmured to him as she started to work in the belly of the generator, slipping one hand in and rooting around with expertise, her other hand sliding up to tug on one of the levers adorning the sides. “Last time it was Plague. Bitch puked all over me.”</p><p> </p><p>Dwight smiled at her grimace, and he shook his head, refocusing on the wires he was sparking with caution. “Something’s telling me it might be Trapper. He always gets the spots where you can’t see his traps until they’ve got you,” he sighed, his voice just as quiet as hers, and she snickered at his next complaint. “I think he likes scaring us. Last time I had him, his traps didn’t even have <em> teeth</em>!” </p><p> </p><p>They worked neatly in tandem; for some reason, it was as though Dwight’s presence alone caused a sharp uptick in productivity from other survivors, so their generator was finished a bit faster than if they’d split up. “Hey,” he whispered, and she glanced up. “I’ll go to the one in the bottom of the temple. You go find another one, okay? Further away from here, though. Lay low.” Nea smirked at him and nodded, taking his direction without question. </p><p>“You got it, boss-man,” she chirped, and he rolled his eyes with a smile before the generator roared to life under their work. They exchanged a glance before splitting off; he crept toward the temple, and as agreed, she headed in another direction, skipping a generator that wasn’t too far off from the one they’d just finished. <em> Okay. We can do this. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Dwight headed down the stairs with a quick jog, looking around carefully, and dove right in on the generator. <em> Okay. Alright. I’ll finish this one, and then I’ll have to be careful how I get out. </em> His eyes flickered up, sensing rushing feet up above him - so, someone was getting chased. Shit. <em> If they come down here, I’ll just get in a locker for a minute, </em> he told himself. <em> Finish the generator, get out, find someone else. </em> Distinctly, another generator roared to life overhead. <em> Good. That was our fourth. Nea’ll be done around the same time I am, if that isn’t her getting chased. That leaves one more generator if everything goes smoothly. </em> He failed to notice that the person running was crouching and walking again, and that his heartbeat was gradually building louder in his chest. <em> If I can tag-team on the last one, we can get out faster. It’ll be fine. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed him and ripped him away from the generator, and he let out a cry of surprise, struggling before he’d even made it up onto the shoulder of the killer.</p><p> </p><p>Except, he never even made it that far.</p><p> </p><p>Dwight grunted in pain as he was shoved against the wall, a blade against his throat, and he swallowed hard, eyes flickering to the face of his attacker.</p><p> </p><p>Legion. A woman, but not the girl from a while ago. A different one, whose hair was either obscured from the mask or tucked away well enough where he couldn’t see it at all - just a mask that looked identical to the first member’s. His heart caught in his throat, and he didn’t speak - but he distantly realized he wasn’t struggling, either. <em> Is-is she gonna kill me? </em> He barely breathed, just darting his gaze between the mask and the knife as she seemed to size him up, her head tilting a bit.</p><p> </p><p>“...” Silently, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, roughly kicking his generator until it sparked and the pistons slowed before she dragged him across the small room. Lockers. She was - going for the lockers..?</p><p> </p><p>The woman yanked one open and shoved him inside, pointing the knife at his chest threateningly. He stared at it, looking up at her meekly, and she finally spoke. “Leave, and you’ll <em> regret it</em>.” Her voice was cold, hard, and he nodded immediately, his pulse racing - and whether it was out of fear, or excitement, or both, he wasn’t exactly sure.</p><p> </p><p>She left him there, then, slamming the locker shut and making her way back up the stairs and out of the temple, until his heart stopped thumping so viciously in his chest and he was left staring out of the thin openings in the locker, trapped in darkness.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard the first scream, cringing and grimacing as he realized it was Nea. <em> Fuck. I’m sorry. </em>He felt guilt wrack him, but at the same time - if he hadn’t listened, he’d just be on a hook right now anyway. Or crawling around, inches from death. What would he have been able to do from there?</p><p> </p><p>Moments later, another scream sounded - Jeff, then. And right as Jeff cried out again, likely from being stuck on a hook, Nea screamed again, struck down once again - and carved open, likely, from the sound of it. Their shouts mixed in his ears until he had lost track of time again, pressed back against the locker, and then all was quiet, aside from the sound of the Entity claiming its next sacrifice. Breathless, Dwight nibbled his thumb nail in anxiety, his eyes darting around the thin opening he had. Should he have helped? Gone out and-</p><p> </p><p>The locker was ripped open and he let out a cry of fear on impulse alone, grabbed by his collar and yanked out by the killer once again. Her knife was bloodied, and she was wordless as she twirled it before <em> slicing his shirt open </em> with it and his lips parted, glancing down at it as his heart started racing. </p><p>“I-I-” </p><p>“Don’t talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Dwight swallowed hard, silencing immediately, and he understood. Hell, he’d understood as soon as she’d thrown him in the locker. His mind had been whirling, feeling guilty about letting his teammates die, but now all he could think about was what was about to happen, what <em> was </em> happening, and he felt so stupid for feeling so <em> antsy </em> for it.</p><p> </p><p>“W-wait - wait, what’s your…” he trailed off, biting his lip nervously, as if he weren’t sure at all why he was even asking. She paused, tilting her head at him thoughtfully, and she answered crisply.</p><p> </p><p>“Julie. And you’d better not say it, either - you haven’t earned that. Now do what I say, and <em> shut up</em>.” Dwight swallowed again, despite his throat being as dry as ever, and he nodded silently in response. </p><p> </p><p>He watched her warily as she sized him up, grabbing his tie and slicing it with her knife to loosen it from his collar - before she grabbed his glasses and tossed them aside, much to his disdain. Dwight let out a little cry of protest, attention turned to the clattering sound, but he stopped moving when the tie obscured his vision completely, feeling her tying it firmly there. Then, all he could hear was clothing rustling - hers, likely, because his shirt was already open and he was no longer being touched - before fingers laced through his hair and then knotted, distinctly reminding him of that trial on Coldwind, and his other thoughts immediately stopped.</p><p> </p><p>He had <em> never </em> done this with a girl before. Dwight had always known he’d never had a preference in a partner, but he’d always been awkward in school, and especially in his social life before he’d been taken to the Realm. He’d tried to date, but it had never worked out - the only things he’d managed were rushed, fleeting things with guys who had found his awkwardness cute, or at least, his willingness to submit satisfying. And even then...he’d only done that a few times, only having started to explore the territory a few months before he was left in the forest by his coworkers, and then he was here, getting hunted every second he took in a breath. So, romantic options were not exactly a <em> priority </em> for him - and although there were a few people that he may have found attractive, or stolen lasting glances at...he never pursued them, especially not for something physical - he couldn’t, not when he was so close to these people. They were like family to him now.</p><p> </p><p>But this was <em> different</em>, he distantly thought, as his face was pressed into something hot and slick, and he awkwardly tried to work, his tongue slipping out and working in slow, inexperienced swipes, warming himself up to the sensation. This was a killer, someone who could do something like this and avoid complicating things afterwards - sure, it wasn’t satisfying emotionally, but he had his fellow survivors, and that was enough for him...he thought. He believed, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>It helped that Julie seemed to pick up on his hesitant, distracted movements, and she forced his head to angle, rocking her hips and sliding his mouth closer until her fingers tightened when his tongue moved just right against her. He adapted, his confidence building a little as his tongue laved over wet, soft ridges, listening to her hushed, heavy breathing. His hands hesitantly slid up to hold her thighs, and he parted them wider, until he felt her other hand rest on his shoulder and she pushed him to lay on his back, her knees spreading wider until his face was covered in slick heat, and he gripped her thighs for leverage, taking every rough buck against his face as she panted and rode his tongue ruthlessly. </p><p> </p><p>Feeling a little emboldened, Dwight craned his neck, leaning into her motions and greedily latching onto her, his tongue curling under the slick curve of her hood before he <em> sucked</em>, and she shuddered, a little moan finally breaking out of her with a soft, “F-fuck-” </p><p>Dwight couldn’t see, but the sensations were <em> everything</em>; he was truly at her mercy here, doing her bidding, trapped between the thighs of a woman that could easily break his neck with one sharp movement if she really wanted to. He didn’t have a say here, and that made his skin crawl with delight, with heat, as he panted and let out a pathetic little noise as her nails dug into his scalp, ordering him to work harder. And of course, like a good little bitch, he did exactly what she wanted, immersing himself in her and drowning in a mess of slick and rocking hips and her rough breathing.</p><p> </p><p><em> This is so fucked. God, I’m so fucked, </em> he thought, but he couldn’t <em> stop</em>, the shame fueling his desire as he let out a little hungry noise, the buzz of it rolling off his tongue and into her clit as she rocked it into his lips, making her shudder and curl over him - his best guess, anyway, as he suddenly felt a lot more weight on his face after he did it - and his fingers dug deeper into her thighs, so fucking <em> invigorated </em> while she gasped and rolled her hips into his face ruthlessly, practically crushing him, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He couldn’t deny how tight his pants were, how much adrenaline this was shooting through his veins, how he <em> craved </em> this feeling of being dragged around and used like this. His heart was racing as he let out ungodly noises with his efforts, sucking and licking and moving up into her thrusts - before she pulled his hair and stifled a noise in her throat, staggered and crippled with pleasure, riding out her orgasm with shaking thighs that he steadied with his hands, almost <em> keeping </em> her there, tasting her, until she finally let go of him, panting and bracing herself on trembling knees. </p><p> </p><p>The air was cold and biting as his face was suddenly freed, distinctly aware of how wet she’d left him, and he blindly felt around for a half of his cut-open shirt, tugging it up to wipe his face off as he panted. He lay there, nervously waiting for whatever she’d do next; she was <em> quiet</em>, completely opposite of the leader he’d had the first time, and that made him a lot more nervous - whether that was a good or bad thing, he wasn’t sure, but his heart was <em> racing </em> as he waited for her next move. Distantly, he supposed he could have taken the blindfold off, but he hadn’t been told he could. The thought sent another flash of heat through him; he hadn’t been given <em> permission </em> to take it off. </p><p> </p><p>Dwight swallowed hard as he slowly moved, bracing himself on his elbows as he panted - and then he froze as he felt hands on his pants, his heart catching in his throat. Oh - </p><p>His heart hammered in his chest as his belt was unbuckled and then his pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and he couldn’t help the little gasp as her hand grasped him, guiding his cock out of his boxers and slowly stroking with ghost-like touches. The blindfold was restricting any expectation of what was coming, so anything she did made chills run up his spine as he let out pathetic little noises, his face flushed as if he hadn’t just had his face ridden into oblivion. Well, this was - different. New. He wasn’t...he never…</p><p> </p><p>“A-ah-” He couldn’t stop the startled moan that spilled out as she slid into his lap, rocking against him, and all he could feel was something slick and hot against him, staining his lap with it as his elbows slipped and he was flat on his back again, his breaths trembling. <em> Holy shit. Holy shit. </em> His heart was racing, and his fingers twitched, seeking action, but unsure what to do. Anticipation was building in him, and at the same time, he was nervous; did she - was she <em> sure </em> about this-? His concern for her intent crumbled when Julie lifted her hips again, taking hold of his cock and slowly, carefully guiding him into position.</p><p> </p><p>His breathing shook a little in anticipation once again, before he seemed to forget <em> how </em> to breathe as she sank down into his lap slowly, and then all he could think about was how hot and soft she was, squeezing him tighter than he’d ever been held, his hands shakily reaching for her hips and sinking his fingers into them. “O-oh my god,” he breathed, his voice barely audible as he tried to adjust himself to the new sensation. This was - it was - </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t move for a long moment, as if aware of his inexperience at this point, and he felt <em> watched </em> as his breaths trembled and he regained ahold of himself, panting softly. He didn’t speak, just swallowed hard, bracing himself - and yet he was <em> still </em> unprepared when she started to move, just rocking her hips so he was barely shifting inside of her. His fingers tightened, a little weak noise not unlike a whimper leaving his throat as his neck arched a little and his head pressed back against the cold floor, eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold. She didn’t slow down this time, though, instead planting her palms on either side of his head as if she were staring down at him while she moved, making him feel like he were shrinking down into the floor itself.</p><p> </p><p>His breaths hitched and he tried to focus on not absolutely losing it in five seconds, his heart pounding in his throat as Julie’s crushing presence skyrocketed his arousal, making him throb in a way that alarmed him. There was <em> no </em> way he was going to let himself come so fast, but she seemed to enjoy playing with him like this, because as soon as he took in a breath to try and steady his nerves, she rolled her hips in a way that made him whine under her, his knees bending a little as he squirmed. <em> Fuckfuckfuck- </em>His back arched a little and his grip tightened on her hips, just in time for her to move a hand across his chest and smooth her thumb over one of his nipples before pinching roughly. On reactive impulse alone, his hips jerked, hilting himself inside of her as they both gasped.</p><p> </p><p>“S-<em> stop</em>,” he blurted out, his voice shaky, “P-please, slow down. I-I can’t -- I’m-” </p><p> </p><p>“I <em> have </em> been going slow,” she pointed out, her voice smug. “It’s not my fault you can’t take it.” Dwight’s face flushed hotter than before, and his voice died in his throat, because this was only making it worse. He felt humiliated, and that humiliation fueled his arousal, which - </p><p>Julie didn’t wait for a response, instead leaning back from where she’d been and bracing herself in his lap - Dwight couldn’t exactly tell how, but he could feel her bent knees on either side of his hips, so he could guess - before she started to <em> really </em> move, and he realized she hadn’t been lying.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t begin to recall the feral noises he let out as she rode him, her thighs flexing and hips rolling down into him as her hands gripped his calves firmly, both for leverage and to hold him down; he just knew he was loud as hell, and she seemed entertained. The pleasure was overwhelming, but he was holding up better than he’d expected, savoring the way she felt rippling and squeezing around him, drowning him in the same slick heat from before. Gradually, albeit shyly, his hands gripped her tightly and he started pulling her down into his upward thrusts, which she seemed to enjoy, judging by the way she groaned when their hips smacked together. “F-fuck,” he hissed, his voice still weak and wobbly.</p><p> </p><p>His gasps and moans devolved into rough, heavy panting as Julie’s movements grew a little more shallow, making the distinct sounds of their meeting hips faster and louder as he grew in confidence as well, pulling her down in sharp movements rather than uncertain tugs while she grunted and let go of one of his calves, leaning on the other more intently to do something with her freed hand that he couldn’t begin to guess - all he knew was that she was being a little louder once she’d done it, and he didn’t particularly mind.</p><p> </p><p>Dwight’s lips parted as he felt himself getting close, fingers sinking into Julie’s hips as he scrambled to warn her, even though he was still actively moving; it was just - the pleasure was so <em> addictive</em>, he couldn’t stop himself, not without hearing her tell him to first. “I-I can’t - I’m close,” he stammered, his voice almost watery with desperation. “I’m gonna-” </p><p> </p><p>His voice cut out as she grabbed him by the throat, surging forward and closing her fingers tightly to cut off his breathing. “Not yet,” she hissed, sounding breathless and hungry in his ear. “Not until I do.” </p><p> </p><p>Dwight would have let out a desperate noise if he had the breath to; despite the fact that he was being strangled in a dirty temple with a murderer riding him, he figured he was still doing pretty okay. <em> What the fuck is wrong with me!? I can’t breathe!! </em> As frantic as the thought was, he still mindlessly kept moving, thrusting into Julie as she held him by the throat and drank in her tension-filled panting, getting high off of the wavering in his senses, the way his mind swam with the slow slipping of his consciousness. His heart was racing, nerves burning with bliss as his lips parted in a desperate attempt to gasp, but his first priority was still getting off. </p><p> </p><p>Dwight was certain he was going to slip any minute, and he wasn’t sure if that meant he was dying or if he were just blacking out - but she let up on his throat just enough for him to suck in a breath, and then she squeezed again, rocking her hips tightly, curving her back so his cock pushed into her just the right way. A whine broke through him and his will started to crack faster and faster as she dropped down flat into his lap, rocking in shallow, sharp thrusts, and he could vaguely feel her hand working between them. No less than a minute later, she shuddered and squeezed his throat so tightly he could’ve sworn she almost broke the skin, letting out a cry as she came on his cock; the first noise she’d made in the entire encounter that had been actually loud. Her hand kept working as her rocking weakened, but that was still plenty for Dwight, who jerked his hips upward in a strained act of bliss as he choked on the noise he would have made, if possible, as the hot, fluttering squeezes of her walls on his cock snapped every fibre of restraint he had and he came <em> so fucking hard </em> inside of her, back arching while he met her slow movements to milk out every last second, every last pulse. <em> Oh my god- oh fuck- </em> His mind burst with the intensity of it as he shuddered, gasping in a breath the very second she let go of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Instantly, he erupted into coughing, too, his head turning to the side as he struggled to regain his wavering consciousness while the high ebbed and he came back to his senses, still seated inside of her. Julie moved off of him, and he lost track of what she was doing after that, because he still couldn’t see, and he was entirely more focused on remembering how beautiful breathing was as he rolled onto his side, fumbling with trembling hands to fix his pants. <em> Holy shit. </em> His mind started running a mile a minute, spinning as he pushed himself to sit up, and he reached for the blindfold - that is, until Julie ripped it off of his head for him, tossing the tie into his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Dwight blinked and tried to readjust to having vision, looking around bleary-eyed in search of his glasses before he spotted them and staggered in their direction, stooping to pick them up and slide them onto his face. Finally, he could see again, too.</p><p> </p><p>Swallowing hard, he glanced at Julie, who was watching him through her mask wordlessly, her head tilted ever so slightly with her clothes so neat that he was almost unconvinced that she’d ever even taken them off.</p><p> </p><p>The killer grabbed him under his arm and half-dragged him up the stairs, guiding him out of the temple and leading him to a familiar sight as he stole glances at her awkwardly. <em> Will I ever be used to this? Is this just - a thing now? Are we friends, or..? </em>He looked uneasy, brow furrowed in thought, and he had made a few false starts on the way over, as if unsure if he were able to ask or not without looking stupid. The hatch was in sight within moments, though, and he readied himself to go in - before Julie stopped, turning to face him.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t let this get to your head,” she said coldly, and he nodded quickly. “We won’t kill you, but you’d better not push your luck. That’s <em> only </em> if you keep this up. You break the deal? You’re back to getting cut up like the rest of them.” </p><p> </p><p>“R-right..” he mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” She jerked her head toward the hatch before turning around to fix her jacket, hesitating before she added, “...you were good today. Keep it up.”</p><p> </p><p>Flushing, Dwight stared at her for a moment, soaking in the praise, before he stumbled for the hatch, slipping in without a word.</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, he could get used to this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the twink gets destroyed</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey all! it's literally been 23 days what the actual fuck lol</p><p>so, long story short, i got kicked out of my parents' house so i'm living in an apartment now and struggling to find a job lol. but that's not what y'all came here for - so here is The Porn<br/>initially i was like 'this is it for the legion porn' but then literally one person asked for a new chapter of this and so i'm like, yeah okay i will now devote my life to this chapter </p><p>i hope you enjoy it! i was working on this off and on for a while, and recently became more enamored with ghostface...might write a fic with him...haha,,,,oops....but also, i mention it because i don't know if frank came off as Too Smart here. idk what the hell i mean by that but, regardless i did my best oops<br/>also, the ending is a little rushed, but because i wanted to leave it a little more open in case i decide i do want to come back and write another chapter. i am not super confident in how i'd write joey, or else i would have written a chapter with him, too. i think susie is baby and also a lesbian (my interp, differing opinions is valid) so she was exempt from this fic overall.</p><p>SO!!! i hope you guys enjoyed this fic! i really loved writing it and i really appreciated the support i got. honestly would not have written this if i didn't get the support i did, y'all made me feel so great about this fic! </p><p>if you guys have any suggestions, feel free to let me know in the comments below (or private messages if that's a thing here? idk i don't use ao3 often whoops)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For as good as Dwight was at following orders, sometimes he did shit that just got under Frank’s skin.</p><p> </p><p>It had been nearing the end of the trial - he’d <em> known </em> Dwight had seen him, because he’d seen only a glimpse of the little dweeb right at the beginning before he was gone without a trace - and Frank was down to his last two targets, after the first had just been sacrificed. The quiet hook-breaker, who was already <em> on </em> a hook, and the nerdy science bitch, who had been struggling in his grip while he sought out a hook for her, too. She would die the minute she was on; Frank had been on her ass all trial, because she <em> loved </em> to hide and become the most impossible fucking thing to find, and he didn’t want to deal with that shit - so, every time she was unhooked, he’d go right back after her, and he had been finally about to be rid of her.</p><p> </p><p>And right as he had hoisted her up onto a hook and ducked to miss the Entity’s claws snapping down into her, cutting off her screams, he’d spotted a flash of white, and had been briefly dumbfounded.</p><p> </p><p>The little shit was <em> making a rescue</em>. For some reason, it pissed Frank off more than anything; he <em> knew </em> he should’ve been hiding, or at least waiting somewhere, not <em> fucking with his trial.</em> In a split second, Frank felt lighter on his feet, and he made a mad dash for the hooked man, panting heavily as he rushed to cut Dwight off before he could get close enough. It was <em> close</em>, too. </p><p> </p><p>Dwight was in the process of lifting the saboteur off the hook when Frank caught up, but he wasn’t fast enough to grab him in time. Instead, he lunged, swiping for the unhooked man - and Dwight <em> dove in front</em>, taking the slash with a cry of pain, startling Frank out of the frenzy. As he clutched his head with a furious snarl, dropping his knife, the pair rushed for the exit gate, which was only a few yards away from the hook - and <em> Dwight opened the door</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Frank lifted his head, ignoring the abandoned knife as he sprinted for the gate, just in time to see the leader urging his teammate out of the gate before he glanced back. They stared at each other for a moment, Frank’s skin boiling with fury and Dwight’s expression looking guilty, before Dwight ran out of the gate after the other man.</p><p> </p><p>That had been...what, six trials ago? </p><p><br/>
Frank was still furious. Every trial he’d gotten, he’d carved up at least two survivors, and if the saboteur had been there, he was his <em> number one priority</em>. He thought he could take what was <em> his </em> and just go on as normal? Every time he cut the fucker down and threw him up on a hook, staring at him until the Entity claimed him, words burned inside of him that he wanted to spit out - but he didn’t.</p><p><br/>
Well, aside from the first time he’d caught him, stabbing his knife into his ankle and <em> dragging </em> him back with an enraged snarl. The survivor had twisted, as if he were trying to defend himself, and Frank had laughed in his face.<br/>
“Yeah, your little boyfriend ain’t here to help you this time, is he!?” he’d spat, driving the blade into his chest and <em> ripping </em> down.</p><p> </p><p>The man had looked <em> confused </em> by that in the split second he had before death, and a slightly more stable Frank had realized he probably shouldn’t have been saying things like that. Looked... <em> suspicious</em>. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still fucking <em> pissed</em>. Dwight had never done something like this before, and he’d <em> only </em> done it this one new time with this guy. </p><p> </p><p>And speaking of Dwight… Frank wasn’t sure if the Entity was punishing him, or if he was just getting unlucky, but he hadn’t had Dwight in a trial in ages. It was wearing down on his patience, and certainly ramping up his rage, the longer he waited, because that little shit had hell to pay. He wasn’t going to get out of it just because he’d been in other trials so long.</p><p> </p><p>That pissed him off, too. Was he doing things for other killers? Other survivors? What if that confusion on the man’s face was because he didn’t think of Dwight like that, but certainly <em> had </em> him that way? Frank’s teeth gritted with fury every time he thought about it, and it made him want to pace (if he could) from where he stood in his new trial, perched and hidden as he watched the little group of survivors, where they were bunched together in a group, <em> Dwight </em> at the head of the pack. Frank’s eyes were fixed on him, watching the way he delegated to his other survivors, like they were working out a plan for the trial. And all of them were <em> listening</em>, even the brawler who looked in physique more like he’d want to march out and do his own thing without listening to Dwight’s scrawny little ass. </p><p> </p><p>That baffled Frank. Such an awkward, nervous little dweeb was so good at commanding the attention of others, and they <em> listened</em>. Looked to him for advice, even. The little science bitch was there again, looking hopefully at Dwight as he spoke, like he was preaching gospel to her or something. And then...of <em> course, </em> there was that fucker again, watching the leader quietly and simply giving curt nods to the words he was saying. <em> Bitch. I can’t fucking </em> wait <em> to cut you open again, </em> Frank thought furiously, his skin crawling with the desire to rush in and get to work.</p><p> </p><p>Dwight had <em> agreed </em> that he belonged to Julie and Frank, and <em> only </em> them. Hadn’t he? Frank didn’t exactly remember, and he wasn’t the type to think <em> coherently </em> about shit. He didn’t even know what the fuck that word meant. He was just pissed, and horny, and he wanted to take all of that out on his little bitch before he got away again. <em> Fucking ran out of the gate. Ran out! </em>Frank let out an aggressive noise, and he glared down at the gathering of survivors again - before he realized they were gone. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck!” he hissed, slamming his fist into the tree he’d been perched in, and dropped down with a grunt as he rolled his shoulders and gripped his knife, setting to work in tracking his victims.</p><p> </p><p>It had taken seconds to find the saboteur, and he’d enjoyed slashing at him without even tapping into his ability; no, he wanted to see this fucker up on a hook first things first. He grinned behind his mask when he threw him up onto the hook resting atop the hill, overlooking the rest of Autohaven - so he could see where the piece of shit went if he were unhooked.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d better not leave this hook, fucker,” he snarled, pointing his knife at the glaring survivor, “‘cause if you do, I’m gonna have fun making you <em> scream </em> again.”</p><p> </p><p>Fury blazing, he whipped around and spotted the slowly-moving shape of the girl, crouched behind some cars, and let his frenzy overtake him, rushing her in a matter of seconds and savoring the way she shrieked in pain. The rush, the anger, whirled within him, and he let her run away, bleeding and sobbing, as he wildly looked around for the burly motherfucker. He felt a sudden urge to check where he’d left his primary target hanging on the hook - and <em> sure enough</em>, there he was, pulling the fucker off.</p><p> </p><p>“Not so fucking fast!” Frank was there just in time, feeling his rush of energy slipping from his control - but it came back in a flash as his knife slashed across the chest of the brawler, hearing him shout in pain and grinning behind his mask. Good; now they were <em> all </em> injured. He lashed out at the dark-haired survivor, who had rapidly turned on his heel and ran off, and missed his swipe.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” he snarled, crippled by the pain of losing out on his ability - but he had tunnel vision for this fucker. Breathing heavily, his voice husking in and out aggressively, Frank went right after the saboteur, completely ignoring the wounded brawler that was limping away; he was a much easier target, but he wasn’t the one he <em> wanted</em>. Not yet.</p><p> </p><p>He hoisted himself up over a ledge with an angry noise, spotting his target rounding a corner in a sprint. After grounding himself once more, Frank ran after him, skidding around the corner like an over-eager dog dashing after a rabbit - and he paid the price for his mindless dashing when a pallet slammed down over his head, sending pain shooting through his head. Frank let out a low growling noise that evolved into a roar of absolute rage as he shattered the pallet with a stomp, looking around wildly as his fingers gripped the knife so tightly he may have been cutting off his own blood flow. </p><p> </p><p>“Where are you!?” he spat, and a flash of color in the corner of his eye sparked giddy bloodlust as he blindly ran after it and slashed - but a <em> woman’s </em> scream filled his ears and he faltered. “What the fuck,” he hissed, staring down at the now-crawling girl from before, “I didn’t want <em> you </em>. Get the fuck out of my way!” </p><p> </p><p>But, for the moment, the trail was lost. He let out a furious noise, looking around a few moments longer before he grabbed the little bitch by her collar, dragging her to a hook and throwing her up incredibly carelessly. When she screamed, he slashed across her stomach angrily, spitting at her to shut up so he could track his quarry in peace. </p><p> </p><p>He was going to have trouble, though. Of course, out of all of the survivors he could have wanted to kill, it had to be the one that was dead silent, even when he was cut up and bleeding like a stuck pig. He didn’t even <em> scream </em> unless Frank was cutting him open (though, oh, he was <em> absolutely </em> planning on hearing that scream before the end of this fucking trial). And speaking of making noises...Frank could distantly hear the pained grunts of the brawler, and an idea sparked in his head.</p><p> </p><p><em> Yeah. None of you little shits ever leave each other. </em> He’d risk drawing Dwight out, doing this, but it wasn’t like he could track this quiet piece of shit any other way. Frank let out a heavy, hungry breath, marching toward the source of the noises - and the chase that ensued was short-lived, because the big fucker hadn’t realized Frank was coming until he was too close to get very far, taking another knife in the back with a scream. Smugly, Frank dragged him over to a hook not too far from the girl, who was still sobbing and dangling from her own, and tossed him up, savoring the way his voice tore with the pain.</p><p> </p><p>“Sit tight,” he said coldly, contentedly, marching off from them - and slinking back into a hiding spot, like he had the very first time he’d gotten Dwight alone. It had worked like a charm the first time, so there was no way this wouldn’t work again. </p><p> </p><p>At least, that’s what Frank thought, but time ticked by more and more, and a generator sparked to life as both hooked survivors started to struggle against the Entity’s greedy claws, making Frank angrier and angrier as time passed. “Are you fucking <em> kidding me</em>,” he hissed, forcing himself still and quiet to make sure that neither the fucker nor Dwight tried to make a last minute save. And, sure enough, they <em> hadn’t</em>. As soon as the claws jabbed into each hooked survivor, Frank turned, searching across the map for any unpowered generators. That had to be where the quiet fucker was, he was certain. </p><p> </p><p>Frank checked three different generators across the map before he finally heard work being done on one inside of the garage, which...was perfect. There was only one way in and out unless that generator was done, and it didn’t sound like it had any more than half of its functionality. <em> Got you, you piece of shit. </em> He slunk around, peering inside, and he paused when he only saw Dwight. <em> God fucking d- </em>Wait.</p><p> </p><p>“...have to explain to Claudette and David why we didn’t get them when we get back to camp.” There was a voice that wasn’t Dwight’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I wish I could’ve gotten them,” Dwight muttered, letting out a quiet sigh. “But I understand why you stopped me. You’re probably right; he was hiding by them, I’m sure. He did it to Kate and Meg, so…”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Exactly</em>. He’s smart, but not very creative.” Frank’s blood boiled at that, and he burst into the garage, diving past Dwight (who yelped in alarm and scrambled to run away) and grabbing onto the saboteur, who looked just as startled by the appearance as he was dragged off of the generator.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Caught you</em>,” Frank hissed, delight sparking beneath his skin as he dragged him out of the garage and over to the gas line, where he’d be able to get a nice view of what he was about to do. He threw the survivor to the ground, straddling him and leaning close to his face. “Did you miss me?” he taunted, and the wriggling man just glared up at him, spitting on his mask in retaliation, which only pissed Frank off. Angrily, he punched his pinned victim in the face before his rage took over and he eagerly, greedily drove his knife in, wrenching out a cry of pain from the man that made his ears <em> sing </em> with contentment before it evolved into an almost inhuman <em> shriek </em> as his blade tore through flesh, cutting him open, squelching through bloodied skin and clothing, and then - and then -- he was still. </p><p> </p><p>Frank stared down at him, almost a bit disappointed that he’d rushed the kill. His head tilted, gazing down at him, before he grinned, sticking his middle finger down at the body. “Don’t <em> fuck </em> with me, and what’s mine,” he spat, pushing himself to his feet and popping the collar of his jacket as if he were hit with a burst of smug confidence. <em> Now, I have to find that little shit before he finds the hatch, </em> he thought, stepping back into the storefront and glancing around before he decided to take a brief look back in the garage - after all, there were lockers there, and Dwight seemed to love hopping into those to go undetected.</p><p> </p><p>But much to Frank’s surprise, Dwight was just - standing there, by the generator, just looking at him like he’d been patiently waiting. He wasn’t even <em> looking </em> for the hatch. Instead, he looked a little uncomfortable, fidgeting where he stood, looking at the killer wordlessly.</p><p> </p><p>Frank didn’t wait for him to say a word, because he grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall of the garage angrily, a snarl in his throat.</p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em> was that last trial?” he demanded, letting his rage take over as he glared daggers into the survivor through his mask.<br/>
<br/>
Dwight swallowed hard, holding himself deathly still as if he were well aware of how angry the killer was (not that that wasn’t fucking <em> obvious</em>) as he stammered out a quick excuse. “I-I had to!”</p><p> </p><p>“You had to,” Frank echoed, tightening his grip on Dwight’s collar. “And why the <em> fuck </em> is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“J-Jake was -” Dwight bit his lip. “He was...getting suspicious..” His eyes averted. “He noticed I-I wasn’t helping anymore. I can’t let them find out, so, I…”<br/>
<br/>
“You what? You did him some <em>f</em><em>avors</em>?” Frank hissed, too angry to connect the dots in a way that <em> wasn’t </em> fuel for the fire. “You getting sick of us? I <em> told </em> you-”<br/>
<br/>
“W-would you just <em> listen to me!? </em> ” Dwight snapped, which jostled Frank out of his angry rambling out of shock alone. This little shit had some balls, that was for sure - and this was the first time Frank had actually seen him <em> use </em> them. “I had to play it safe for a few trials so he’d stop thinking something was up. That’s <em> it</em>.” He met Frank’s stare through the mask with frustration, <em> impatience</em>, though he did look increasingly more nervous as the silence stretched out in the garage. He let him sweat there for another long moment, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed anxiously before he finally moved again.</p><p> </p><p>Frank grabbed Dwight by the throat firmly, squeezing with barely enough force to thin out his breaths as he leaned in, his voice quiet and rough as a noise not unlike a squeak left the pinned man. </p><p> </p><p>“You think you can talk to me that way?” he asked, his voice icy, but really, it was to pull a reaction out of Dwight - the way he writhed meekly against the wall was <em> everything</em>. Dwight shook his head quickly, and Frank relented, tipping his head up. “Fine,” he said evenly, “but don’t think you’re getting out of what’s coming to you.” He savored the way Dwight shuddered in his grip, like he was anxiously awaiting his punishment.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t make him wait much longer; Frank moved off of the wall, dragging Dwight with him before he all but threw him against the broken down truck, fingers threading into his hair as he forced him to bend over. Frank went right along with him, sliding his mask off and dropping it against the hood as he leaned in, his breath washing over Dwight’s ear as he shuddered from the sensation.<br/>
“You can’t wait for this, can you?” he taunted, watching the way the survivor seemed to just melt into the cold metal like it was a luxury mattress. “I just gutted your little boy toy right outside, and you’re still worried about whether or not you’ll get my dick. Some <em> leader </em> you are.” He ground himself against Dwight’s ass, fingers tightening in his hair as he yanked his head back further, drinking in the way the survivor gasped with the movement, pressing back against him, ever so pliant, so needy. He could tell he was desperate for it; Frank could just yank down his pants, spread him open, and go right at it, and the little fucker would take it just as gratefully as any other time he had - but this was supposed to be a <em> punishment</em>.<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm. I still don’t know yet,” he hummed, fingers drumming against the hood as if he were <em> thinking </em> while he leaned back. “I mean, since you’re just so <em> worried </em> about getting caught. Maybe you should just look for the hatch.” His voice was casual, thoughtful, but he didn’t stop moving, rocking his hips roughly, the shape of his trapped cock prodding the survivor’s ass in a thinly veiled taunt.<br/>
<br/>
And, as expected, Dwight cracked a little more. “N-no, they’re...it’s fine,” he mumbled, as if distracted, and Frank grinned. “W-we have...we have time.”</p><p><br/>
“I dunno. We don’t wanna risk it,” he said, sliding his free hand up Dwight’s button-down, raking his fingers up his stomach, his chest, and then he roughly pinched a nipple. His eyes narrowed with satisfaction as he won out a hungry, desperate noise from the other man, feeling him rock back into his grinding like the pent-up little bitch he was; fucker wasn’t even using words anymore, just breathing heavily and begging silently with his little squirms, and Frank fucking <em> loved </em> it.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he husked in his ear, “you want it that bad? You want me to break your little ass in half, don’t you? I’m gonna fuck you up so bad, and you can’t <em> wait </em> for it.” Dwight’s breath shuddered and Frank could feel the goosebumps crawling along his skin, making a giddy grin spread across his face again as he nipped the survivor’s ear, teeth clicking shut as he pulled back a little. Still, though, he wanted an answer - and so he yanked Dwight’s hair again, twisting his nipple far more carelessly than he would have if he <em> weren’t </em> still livid with the way this little fucker had been acting. “I asked you a question, <em> bitch</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dwight’s teeth gritted with the mewl he let out, his voice breathless and unfocused, almost like he was drunk as he panted, “Y-yes - please, I can’t-” His voice was shy, awkward, and that was something Frank craved the most. As much of a <em> dependable </em> leader this guy was to his flock of hopeless souls, he was still a meek little nerd somewhere in there, no matter how hardened he’d become from his time in the Realm. Sure, he could take a chase and die without flinching anymore, but he was still a pathetic little bitch when it came to anything <em> physical</em>; but that was completely fine with Frank, and he knew for a fact that Julie liked it, too.</p><p> </p><p>Frank felt like he had so much <em> power </em> when he had Dwight squirming under his stare. He and Julie had always been strong-willed people with commanding presence, even back in Ormond - and though they were alike in nature, Julie had never once spent a day on her back. Of the two, she held the reins when they got going, and that was just a fact of their relationship -- so Frank <em> craved </em> these little moments where he was in charge, in command, with an eager face following his every instruction.<br/>
<br/>
“I guess that’s good enough.” He finally let go of Dwight, moving back just enough to yank his pants down carelessly; although he wouldn’t show it as clearly as Dwight would, he <em> was </em> craving this, too. His desire was barely withheld, longing for nothing more than to jump on him and ram into him until his voice gave out, clawing at his skin, imprinting marks all over his pale body, because that was exactly what the little fucker <em> wanted</em>-- and, hell, there was nothing stopping Frank from doing just that, because he wanted it, too.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing to stop him aside from a few layers of clothes, anyway. Well - that, and his desire to see Dwight sweat for it first.</p><p> </p><p>Frank dug into the pocket of his jacket and closed his fingers around a small, familiar bottle, one he’d had on him the night that he’d first ended up in the Realm. Curiously, his personal belongings never seemed to truly be gone; the last time they’d done this, he had distinctly remembered losing the lube after they’d gone, but upon returning to the lodge in between trials, it was right back in his pocket, its contents undisturbed. It was convenient, to be sure, and so he hadn’t given it much thought past a little smirk of satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>Popping the cap, he generously slicked his fingers and tucked them in the curve of Dwight’s ass, toying with his hole in slow, deliberate strokes, feeling the way it fluttered in anticipation as the survivor’s breath shook. Frank’s clean hand freely cupped at his ass, spreading him open as he pressed two fingers inside without a proper warning and letting out a husky breath as he felt Dwight clench down with a reactive gasp. So <em> noisy </em> . Frank’s fingers curled, scissored, like he was <em> playing </em> with Dwight’s hole rather than actually getting him ready, and he brought his free hand back before it rushed forward again in a rough slap, immediately pulling a yelp from the survivor.</p><p>“Oops. Did that hurt?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery as he stabbed his fingers in deeper, watching Dwight claw weakly at the hood of the truck as he ghosted his spot, just the slightest tap off from rubbing right into it. “<em>Hey</em>. I’m talking to you.” At the same time that he gave the other man that last little curve he needed, his hand came down in another rough slap, reddening the supple skin as Dwight let out a cry that sounded more like a moan than a shout of pain.</p><p> </p><p>Ever so distracted, Dwight could only shake his head like it were swimming, and Frank grinned, pressing his fingers knuckle-deep and flexing his wrist, milking his spot for all it was worth. And, as expected, it wrought desperate, animal noises from Dwight, his back dipping and fingers curling, clenching so eagerly on the killer’s fingers that he could barely get a good stroke in anymore. He knew it wouldn’t take long, either; his hand slipped around to grab Dwight’s cock by the base, preemptively blocking his orgasm, because he honestly didn’t trust if the little fucker would warn him first.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning over the writhing form of the survivor, Frank tucked his chin into the crook of Dwight’s neck, a smug grin on his face as he spoke.</p><p>“You been fantasizing about me?” he taunted, voice low and hungry, and he felt a <em> rush </em> as he watched the other man flood red and whimper like he was too embarrassed to answer. His fingers curled, <em> stroking </em> his spot, and he soaked in the view of Dwight’s lips parting with a helpless cry; he knew he was already there. “No, you don’t get to cum yet. Answer me,” he growled in his ear, feeling him shudder in response before he nodded quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah? Bet you’ve been <em> wanting </em> to piss me off like this. Wanted me to fuck with you.” God, he was so fucking hard, but he had to <em> savor </em> this. He pulled his fingers free before they pushed right back in, a third accompanying the first two, and he started rhythmically thrusting them at that angle that made Dwight <em> squeal </em> and clamp down tightly, leaving Frank grinning and panting against his neck with starved impatience. “You’re such a fuckin’ <em> slut</em>. Look at you. You’re trying to milk me and my dick’s not even in you yet,” he laughed, stabbing his fingers back in a final few times, watching the survivor buck and arch in futile, desperate attempts to meet his end - but he wasn’t having it. “You wanna cum? <em> Beg for it</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dwight’s breaths shook, unfocused and drunk on the pleasure, but he quickly tried to obey. “P-please-” His voice cut into a guttural whine. “P-please-- I c-can’t take it,” he panted, and Frank smirked.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t take what, bitch? Want me to stop~?” <em> This </em> was something he could do all day - toy with Dwight, watch him flush and squirm because he was too shy to say what he really wanted. In fact...maybe he wouldn’t even go all the way this time. Maybe he’d keep edging him, wouldn’t let him finish, just dump him off at the hatch and make him beg for it next time they got a trial together. <em> That </em> would’ve been a fitting punishment - leaving him in the lurch just like he’d done to Frank. In the moment, he solidified that plan, deciding the little bitch’s fate in the span of his heavy, desperate breathing, like he were struggling to find his voice again.</p><p> </p><p>But then, he said something Frank wasn’t expecting. “No, I- J-just--” Dwight swallowed hard, finally looking over his shoulder, looking flustered and yet, something in his dark brown eyes carried a smoldering heat, desperate lust. “Please j-just <em> fuck me</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Frank’s throat went dry, and he met Dwight’s stare. “Fuck,” he husked, his dick taking the reins as he offered him a toothy grin, “why not? Since you asked so <em> nicely</em>.” His fingers threaded into Dwight’s hair and he forced his head forward again before he pulled his hand back and started to fumble with his jeans, unzipping them and pulling his dick free with hands that were practically <em> trembling </em> with anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>He took only the barest amount of seconds to spill some lube into his hand and slick his cock with a few quick, rushed strokes before he was spreading Dwight’s ass with his palms. He grinned, then, rocking his hips to slide up against his hole a few times, feeling him <em> squirm </em> with the barest hint of a whimper in his throat before finally, finally, Frank started to press in, the head of his cock spreading him open in a torturously slow motion - and then, he slammed himself in the rest of the way in an almost seamless glide, pulling a raw shout from Dwight’s throat.</p><p><br/>
He didn’t wait for Dwight to adjust - that wasn’t what he was doing this time. This wasn’t some loving, gentle, careful bullshit -- this was about <em> dominance</em>, about punishment, and so Frank started thundering down on him without hesitation, fingers sinking greedily into his hips as he yanked him back into his violent thrusts, hips slapping against the back of Dwight’s thighs. Dwight was barely making any noise, either - the only thing he could manage were rushed, strained gasps of breath, like Frank were knocking the wind out of him with each hilted ram of his cock.</p><p> </p><p>Dwight was just so fucking <em> tight </em> - a soft, hot vice grip on Frank’s cock, swallowing him up no matter how brutal he was being with his thrusting, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was barely focused on the survivor at the moment, only intent on getting his fix, but he could tell that Dwight was impossibly into even <em> this</em>, his back arched into the truck as he gasped for breath, pressing back into the violent fucking just like any other encounter they’d had. Distantly, Frank had become wary of how addicted he’d become to this little shit -- but then, it was evident that the feeling was mutual. He was just so fucking <em> perfect </em> - always so eager to take whatever he had to give, to do whatever he was told, and always so <em> grateful </em> for it. It made a giddy rush flood Frank as he leaned over Dwight, huffing rough, heavy breaths into his ear, getting high off of the tight squeeze, the eager whines, the sounds of his weak scrabbling on the hood of the truck.</p><p> </p><p>His thrusts shortened into rough, sharp snaps as his hand came down in a violent slap again, striking whatever skin he could reach, and a delighted cry left Dwight as he clenched on Frank’s cock, making him snarl appreciatively in the survivor’s ear as he repeated the motion, over and over, filling the air with the sharp, stinging bites of contact until his hand burned and Dwight’s skin was undoubtedly marred with red, swollen marks from the abuse. </p><p>“That’s it -- <em> good boy</em>,” Frank growled in Dwight’s ear, hooking two of his fingers into his mouth, forcing his jaw to part wider as he yanked his head back, planting his bitch’s feet on the ground again. At this new angle, Dwight’s voice started spilling more freely - due in part to the fact that Frank was all but rutting him at this point, his cock curving up inside of him <em> just right</em>, judging by the way his cries had suddenly jumped an octave. Frank was shorter, but he had no issues holding their position, his breath spilling over Dwight’s nape before he shot forward, burying his teeth in his skin in a possessive bite -- he was getting <em> close </em> now, and there was no doubt that Dwight was closer than he was. Distantly, he thought he ought to speak more, to fuck with the survivor as much as possible, but he didn’t have the brain function to focus on that at the moment. This was something primal, hungry; words didn’t fucking matter to Frank, just <em> getting off</em>, and he was certain his bitch didn’t care either way.</p><p> </p><p>He barely had a second to think about that before Dwight’s voice shifted in pitch again, unable to form words, but that was fine by Frank - he still knew what was coming. His teeth dug deeper, free hand sliding around to tuck Dwight’s hips back against his, and he slapped away the survivor’s hands the second he tried to touch himself. If he didn’t get off without touching, that was his problem. However, that didn’t seem to <em> be </em> a problem -- within a matter of seconds, Dwight let out a desperate, heady cry of ecstasy and clamped down <em> so tight</em>, and Frank’s teeth gritted in his skin as his hips jerked in rushed, greedy ruts, his hands dropping to start clawing at his skin tightly to try and hilt himself as much as possible. He barely got in a few more sloppy thrusts before he raked his nails across Dwight’s hips, muffling his snarl of bliss in his skin as his vision all but popped behind his screwed-shut eyelids, blowing his load deep in Dwight’s ass. He kept moving through the intensity of his high, letting those sweet, hot walls milk him dry while he shuddered, drowning in the bliss.</p><p> </p><p>They stayed there, melting into the hood of the truck before Frank recovered, letting go of him with an exhausted laugh. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he breathed, “that was awesome.” He pulled out carelessly, fumbling with his pants in a post-orgasm haze that convinced him he’d blown his soul out somewhere in that ass, before he leaned against the door, a grin loosely holding his face. </p><p> </p><p>Dwight stayed where he was, struggling to catch his breath - and certainly struggling to find his footing - as he flushed, fixing his clothes in a much sloppier manner. He chanced a glance at Frank, who met his gaze, cocking his head with narrowed eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” he said, voice a little rougher than before, “next time, why don’t you fuckin’ <em> tell me </em> before you pull some shit like that?” Dwight cringed a little at that, stumbling to his feet and using the truck for support as he uneasily shrugged, much like a nervous child being scolded. “Besides,” Frank added, strolling up to the taller man and wrapping his fingers around the knot of his tie, yanking him down to eye-level with their noises almost touching, “what’s wrong with them knowing you’re a little slut? <em> My </em> little slut?” It was a question with an obvious answer, but it was still enjoyable to watch Dwight flush from the wording, stammering weakly with no true way to respond.</p><p> </p><p>Really, he doubted at all that Dwight would warn him of any suspicions; if anything, he had shown the little dweeb a side of things he could actively pull back out, if he so pleased -- and if his sounds had been any indicator there, he had <em> liked </em> it. Which...was unsurprising. He liked <em> anything</em>, even when he was taunted about it. But, Frank didn’t necessarily mind that little fact.</p><p>Frank let him go, then, loosening his grip on the tie until he was holding the very tip, guiding him out of the garage after he slipped his mask back on. He glanced behind himself every so often, watching Dwight struggle to work his legs properly, and a smug rush filled him as he guided him to the loud, droning howl of the hatch. Standing there, he looked the survivor over slowly, and remembered him chatting away with the fucker Frank had come to hate -- <em> Jake</em>, his name was, and he hadn’t liked the way Dwight smiled at him when he spoke, even if it had been only a few moments he’d seen. His possessiveness itched, and so he spoke up as the survivor approached the exit.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t forget,” he said slowly, “who you belong to.” He pointed his knife, readily in his hand again, at the other man. Dwight nodded, and Frank was certain that he’d never seen the survivor so <em> sure </em> before. His head tipped up expectantly. “Yeah? I wanna hear you say it.”<br/>
<br/>
Dwight’s throat bobbed. “I belong to you,” he said, his voice shy and meek, but certain.</p><p> </p><p>Behind his mask, Frank grinned. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re damn right you do.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>